Belief in Hope
by Jessica Doom
Summary: Santa Claus and the belief in him has never meant a thing to Draco. But for some reason it means quite a great deal to his husband. Again, he's sure he has a lesson to learn about special occasions. But asking him to believe in something like that... Well, that could take a lot of convincing. Sequel to "Wisp of a Dream"


**A/N: I hadn't really planned on writing a sequel to "Wisp of a Dream" this year, but here we are! I just felt like I wanted to show more of this dynamic and I had a bit of inspiration randomly from beliefs in Santa Claus. And this was the result. Hope you enjoy!**

**And reviews make me happy :D**

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Part of the magic of being a child is the hope and belief in Santa Claus. The innocent wonder of it is what can define a childhood.

Or break it.

Much like his blatant disregard for the importance of birthdays, Lucius Malfoy had never even pretended to go along with the charade of even the possibility of there being a North Pole or flying reindeer. From a very young age, he had discouraged his son from believing any of it. It wasn't even that he'd come out and said that none of that type of impractical magic could exist. He just…never started with the pretense from the beginning. Whenever there would be even the single mention or glimpse of the man in the red suit, Lucius would scoff and throw a derisive look to his son. He wanted to make him as aware as he was that there was no need to believe in such a trivial thing.

Draco Malfoy would be lying if he said this hadn't messed him up a little bit. While the other children in his neighborhood eagerly awaited the nightly visit from the big man, he had sat on the sidelines with a definite sulk to his shoulders. He didn't even try to believe for fear his father would find out.

But he wanted to – Oh how he wanted to! He wanted to wait up with baited breath for the pitter patter of reindeer hooves on his roof. He wanted to see the flash of red as that magical man disappeared up the marble fireplace in his bedroom. He wanted to wake up and find a whole slew of presents he hadn't even known he'd always wanted under his tree! Was that too much to ask for?

These secret wishes never came true, however. Every morning he would wake to find not a single present under that small green tree decorated in silver trinkets in his room. The Christmas tree he'd never told a single soul about, aside from Dobby that was. This was the only being to ever enter his bedroom when he was young. The house elf would come around to make sure he was tucked in and ready for bed, because his parents were much too busy to do it themselves. Which was why there were never presents under this tree. He had set this tree up as a test, after all. Just in case. But, no, a present never came and he always remained in the belief Lucius was right from the beginning.

This belief stayed with the man even as he grew older. When he had a son of his own, he hadn't even given the fairy tale a single thought. Astoria had casually mentioned to the infant during his first Christmas season that he would get a special present from Santa Claus. Draco hadn't said a thing to affirm or deny this. After all, the child couldn't even understand what was being said to him at that point.

However, the year after that, when Scorpius was now a year and a half old, the boy had developed a belief. No doubt at the hands of his mother who insisted upon normal traditions of stockings and milk and cookies. He walked around the house with soft footsteps and kind words, eager to be on the so-called 'Nice' list. The existence of which Draco never came out and said was real or not. Honestly, he never said a word on the subject, period. He would simply roll his eyes and return to his work, knowing that Astoria was glaring at him and they would have a talk about it later that night.

These talks always ended in him sleeping in a guest bedroom, of course. His wife would never allow the innocence of their child to be shattered because the man she'd married had "deep-rooted childhood issues". Whatever that meant.

Until Scorpius turned seven, the same fights and casual indifferences on his part happened every year. It was then that the boy actually began to doubt and Draco saw his chance to strike this nonsense out of his son for good.

"_Father?" The boy questioned as he__ sat beside his father in his study. The man was busy scanning a rather important-looking document and therefore only gave a small nod to show he was listening._

_But as soon as the boy began to speak, he immediately dropped any pretense of only half-listening. "Father, I've written my letter to Santa...but I'm not sure if I should send it this year."_

_This admission had Draco feeling both apprehensive - as his wife wasn't here at the moment to see him handle it - and satisfied for he could finally dispel this believe for the same reason. He looked around out of near-dear, but knew full well that his wife had told him she was going Christmas shopping with her sister, Daphne. He then turned to look at Scorpius, unable to resist running his fingers through that hair that made him look so much like he did when he was a child. "Why are you feeling apprehensive, Scorpius?"_

_Could his own disbelief be rubbing off on the child?_

_"Well..." The boy bit his lip and played nervously with the wax-sealed letter in his pale and lithe little fingers. "I was thirsty last night and... Well, I got up to get water and heard you and Mumma talking."_

He means fighting_, Draco immediately thought, feeling slightly guilty. He'd hated hearing his own parents fighting when he was a child. This wasn't something he cared to inflict upon his own offspring. "We had a small argument; it's nothing to worry over, Scorpius."_

_"Oh. I know!" He grinned up at his father, not an ounce of distrust in those steely-grey eyes. "I just... Well, I heard what you said. That there is no...no Santa Claus..."_

_Immediately, Draco's shoulders froze. Astoria would never forgive him if she heard this. If it was his fault in the end that their child stopped believing. "Scorpius, you must know-"_

_"I think you're right."_

_"Wh-what...? What did you just say?"_

_A small smile very signature to the Malfoy name spread over the younger male's face. He was incredibly smart for his age Draco couldn't help but to think. Smarter than even he has been. "It's simply illogical, right? I think you're right that Santa isn't real. Where's the proof? We know and live with magic, every day, right? Shouldn't we know that something this...strange and based on magic is real or not?"_

_Draco had no words. He felt a small balloon of hope or something akin to it deflate inside his chest. He wasn't sure what it really was, but he just felt...shattered._

_This explanation is son of merely seven years had given him was much different than Lucius' had been. It wasn't a shrug of the shoulders and a simple 'no'. There was reason behind it that he jus couldn't doubt. And that reason left him feeling quite sad._

_Like some small hope he might have still had shattered inside of him._

That day, both of the Malfoy men ceased any believe in the impossible man who dropped down chimneys and delivered presents. It was an unspoken bond between them and something they most definitely didn't share with Scorpius' mother. For all she knew, her son never grew out of his childlike innocence.

And by the time the boy might have been old enough to begin questioning it, the subject had been diverted by the divorce. Astoria and Draco split around the holidays, bringing a bit of lack in cheer for a few years. By then, the entire idea of it had been forgotten.

Until now, that is. Now being Scorpius' sixth year at Hogwarts and the first year he would spend Christmas with his father and his new husband.

And with the small child swelling in that husband's midsection. The question had seemed innocent enough, but the Malfoy boy couldn't help but to look up from his schoolbook and laugh incredulously. A sound he figured he would hear from his father as well and stopped abruptly when he didn't. "Father, he can't be serious, can he?"

Slowly, Harry looked up at Draco and rose a delicate brow. The man stood beside him as they hung their stockings by the fireplace. There was one for every one of the people currently present - Harry, Draco, Scorpius, and the Potter boy (and Scorpius' good friend) Albus Severus. The designation of each stocking was clear as they all had the name scrawled on the white fur at the top in a stunning gold print that shimmered with magic. And beside the adults' stockings was also a blank one. It wasn't hard to guess who that was for as the soon-to-be parents had become quite giggly and flushed when they had hung it.

"Serious about what?" Harry asked softly, looking back to the stockings and stroking one with a wistful touch.

Draco cleared his throat, looking over at where his son was lounging on the couch, his feet propped up on Albus' thighs as if he owned the place. He visibly cringed at the look he was receiving before turning to face his husband's questioning stare once more. "Scorpius doesn't believe in leaving milk and cookies for Santa Claus...," he said delicately, leaving off the notion that he didn't either.

"Oh..." Harry looked to his youngest son, who seemed actually rather unbothered by this. There were lots of children their age who didn't believe. And his wasn't exactly a belief he was eager to share with them, either. "I suppose he's old enough. But I didn't mean for Albus and Scorpius. Not really... I meant more for our baby." Harry placed a soft hand on his stomach, the size indicating that he could give birth any day now. "To start a family tradition."

"Don't bother," Scorpius warned, eyes carelessly returning to studying his book once more. "It's not a tradition Father has ever been eager to carry out," he added while flipping a page. "He fought every year with Mother about it until I realized that the entire idea was absolutely ridiculous."

There was definite shock and the beginning of hurt showing plainly on Harry's face. He stared on at his lover, mouth agape and at a loss for words. Draco sighed and shrugged, trying to dismiss the topic easily. "My father never lied to me about it. I wasn't going to lie to my son. If you want to with our baby...that's fine, but don't expect me to go along with it. I didn't go along with Astoria, either."

Flinching, Harry stepped forward out of Draco's arms and shook his head. "This is important to me," he said quietly, his eyes shining with something the blonde could never understand. A look he took on only in certain occasions. Like when he'd made it his absolute priority the year before to make sure birthdays began to mean something to Draco again. It was indignation and sadness and drive and passion. And it was a look that he'd come to expect an unwavering plan of attack from.

"Come on, Harry," Draco bit, turning and stalking to his favorite leather armchair where he sat down in a huff. "You can't honestly tell me you believe there is such a thing as Santa Claus."

"I can. ...and I do, Draco." Harry hitched his chin defiantly, but stared into the fireplace. He often found it was better not to look at the man he loved when he chose to make a stand. It was easier not to lose his will that way. "Magic is the biggest part of our lives. Why would it be so hard for us to believe, therefore, that it could be responsible for something so wondrous? Why couldn't there be a wizard out there who makes the most of it and brings cheer to children everywhere?"

"Because I think I would have received a present from him myself, don't you, having been a child myself once?"

"It's simply not logical, seeing as our own community doesn't even recognize the existence of this 'Santa Claus'. Correct?" Scorpius added, brave enough to meet his step-father's eyes with absolute surety.

Harry found himself cringing again. He knew they were right. He himself had never received a present from the man in red growing up, either. But as he had children of his own, he'd never come to suspect why. It was just a fact and he accepted it. And there had always been a present under the tree for each of his children that neither he nor Ginny could ever explain. How was he supposed to argue with that...?

"I... Um, I'm feeling rather ill. I think... I think I'll head to bed. See you kids in the morning." Harry had been too stunned by facts to answer and still sound sane. Not giving his husband even the smallest of glances, he walked by the couch and kissed Albus on the end, ignoring his pitying and unsure look. He then squeezed Scorpius' arm gently before heading up to his bedroom.

For a long time, the man could only manage lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. He'd just found out that he was probably incredibly crazy and childish, and that was a lot for a person to handle. Of course there was no Santa Claus! Why had it taken him this long to come to that realization? It was about time he grew up and accepted this fact.

Maybe deep down he had always known and had just not wanted to accept it.

Somewhere in thinking this hard about something, a person is bound to fall asleep. Especially if they're nine months pregnant and incredibly exhausted to begin with. Harry hadn't even noticed he was sleeping until he felt pressure beside him on the bed that startled him awake. He breathed in sharply, sitting up from the awkward way he was laying backwards and slightly sideways. Slowly, he felt beside him and found the familiar touch of his husband's hand. Through the dark, he found those beautiful grey-water eyes, but found that he couldn't hold their gaze.

"For the record, I'm here to apologize," Draco said gingerly and squeezed the hand in his grasp. "I've been thinking…and I think I've figured out what's so important to you here. Will you hear me out?"

His heart weighing a ton, Harry was hesitant to hear anything his husband had to say right now. It wasn't really his fault directly that he felt so downtrodden. But he couldn't help but to blame him just a little bit…. On the other hand, though, he wasn't sure why this was so important to him in the first place. And if Draco had some insight, he might as well hear him out.

It was for this reason that the raven-haired man felt himself nodding in consent before reaching to their nightstand and turning the lamp on. He was startled when he turned back to his blonde beauty and found him to be wearing a look that could only be described as something completely opposite of his usual smirk. "Are you okay?"

Draco nodded, but it came out much less confident than he normally was. "Yeah, I just…. It's because you want to be a good parent."

With a confused frown, Harry waited by his side for something more. But there came no other words of explanation. The other man just continued to stare down at his lap, picking at his perfectly manicured nails. "Um…," he intoned gently, clearing his throat and moving to lie back against the pillows. "I'm not quite sure what you mean…."

Exasperated, Draco threw his hands up in the air and scoffed. "I mean…. I mean it's important for you to say there is a fucking Santa Claus because you just want to come off as a good dad!" He sighed, standing to pace back and forth in order to get the words out right. "There is no surprise in the fact that my parents weren't exactly…loving when I was younger. My mother wasn't as caring as she is now. That sort of affection only came once she realized she may lose me after the Dark Lord rose again. So I'm sure you were already assuming that they never allowed me to buy into the whole 'Santa Claus' thing. And it's from them that I learned how to parents. That's why I never confirmed that particular fairy tale for Scorpius. To me it was just a silly lie and a waste of time.

"But since I've been with you and I've seen the way you and your family are with their children…I've realized I'm not much better a parent than my parents are. Or I wasn't. And I've realized that I don't want to be that way any longer." Deeply resigned in his new way of thinking, Draco plopped down hard beside Harry on the bed. He stared at the bulge that was his husband's stomach, nodding slowly to himself. "I want…. I want to be a better father this time. I want to lie to our new child just to see an eager excitement in those brilliant jade eyes that I just _know_ they'll be born with. Because…I just know that's why you've done it. And why you feel so horrible right now.

"Harry, you think it's just about a man in a red suit that brings children out of the sheer kindness of his heart. You think it's just awe-inspiring magic and sweet adorations. But really…this belief you've instilled in your children means more than that! It means happiness and hope! You telling your children that Santa is real and going through that charade every year stems from your love and care for them. You want to see them happy and joyful when they open that present that you've never seen. You just…want them to be…happy…." Draco sighed, his thoughts coming out quite a bit more babbly and incoherent than he'd desired. But that was the jist of what he'd been thinking.

"I just want to do that for this child. I didn't properly understand the dynamic of this belief system back then. But I do now. So…for that reason, I need you to come with me."

Throughout this rushed and confusing explanation, all Harry had been able to do was frown and stare at his husband. He wasn't quite following what he'd said, but he was sure he at least partially understood. Draco thought that children believing in Santa Claus meant their parents truly loved and cared for them. And now that was important to him…. He shook his head slowly to clear all of those words and moved his feet to the floor. Draco followed his motions, quickly aiding him into a standing position. "Can we make this fast, though? I'm actually very tired tonight. This child is seriously high-maintenance already, just like his father." He chuckled, keeping a good grip on the other's arm as they descended the stairs.

Laughing in that deliciously sinful way Harry loved, the blonde man shook his head and led his husband to the lit fireplace. "Just stay here a moment, okay? I'll be right back." Before Harry could open his mouth to protest, the other was gone. He sighed softly, steadying himself against the wall and rubbing his belly in an attempt to soothe the restless child within.

But Draco was back just as quick as he'd left, carrying a glass of milk and a plate filled with…. Harry craned his neck to see and smirked when he affirmed his suspicion – cookies. "Draco Malfoy, you are a sap," he teased, watching the man set the dishes on the coffee table.

With a shrug, neither denying or affirming this accusation, Draco came back to his love's side. He rubbed the swelled skin affectionately, thinking fondly of the love child they had created. And thinking of how much he truly loved the baby already, even though he hadn't seen it yet. "When Scorpius finally stopped believing in Santa Claus, something in me broke, too. It hurt so much that I thought maybe I had sort of still believed in the man. But seeing you tonight…. When Scorpius pointed out just how much it couldn't be true, I saw that same emotion written on your face. You weren't sure you could lie to our baby and I completely understand." His resolve firm, Draco got down on his knees and pulled the hem of the man's sweater up to reveal the stretch-marked and softly tanned skin. He leaned in to press a sweet kiss to the flesh, and then looked up at his husband with a large grin. "But I want my parenting to be different this time. If you want to tell our baby that there is a Santa Claus or Easter Bunny or goddamn Tooth Fairy, I don't give a shit! I'll go along with you, I swear!"

Unable to help himself, Harry laughed out loud. Upon seeing the hurt look that flashed in his lover's eyes, however, his hand flew up to cover his mouth and he rethought his response. "Sorry," he whispered through his fingers before pulling them away to reveal a serious smile. "I didn't mean to laugh. I just…. Well, you're just so adorable right now and I don't quite know how to handle it." He too sank to his knees, pressing in as close as his stomach would allow to plant a firm kiss to the pale lips at his disposal.

Draco sighed happily into the kiss, gently pressing into his husband's shoulder to guide him to the carpet in front of the fire. From this position, he was better able to get around the bump between them, propping himself up on his hands, straddling the still fit waist beneath their growing baby. "Handle it by agreeing. Handle it by telling me…we'll allow our children to grow up like yours have. I want them to believe. And I want them to love me," Draco hissed on a rasping breath, ravaging his husband's neck and milking out moans.

"If…. I-if I say 'yes'…will you fuck me already?" Harry whispered on stilted breaths, unable to hold in his pleasured noises with every bite and suckle admonished upon him.

"As long as you promise me that this can be our yearly tradition…."

Harry laughed breathlessly, rutting up into the other man desperately. "The sex or the Santa thing…?"

"Both."

"Oh you're crazy," Harry groaned, desperately trying to tear Draco's clothes off now. The hormones raging through him at this point were demanding this and he wasn't about to deny them. "Yes to both. Just…stop talking! I want to be finished before Santa comes down this chimney and finds a sight he could never unsee."


End file.
